The Phantom of the Opera, in my mind, has always been god-like.
It was inspiring: The way it skyrocketed into fame, the way its success was a staple to the whole world and not just the community theater nerds in my Midwest neighborhood growing up. Everyone knew that the Phantom standard was the highest you could attain in theater — it set the bar for every production, every budding actress, every hopeful director, every stage mom. There were no mistakes, no blemishes. To me, a 10-year-old oblivious to much of the world, The Phantom of the Opera was perfect.
The first time I saw a local high school’s production, I was mesmerized by heroine Christine’s way-too-high soprano runs and the “Masquerade” number, full of intricate 1900s French outfits. Its story had that haunting vulnerability of love, the precision of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s dynamic score, a beautiful demonstration of live theater. Today, Phantom is the longest running show on Broadway and just had its 10,000th performance on Feb. 11.
It was a few years before I grasped just how revolutionary the show was. In the late ‘80s, it steered Broadway away from the trite Rodgers and Hammerstein wholesomeness to fresher material, unafraid to experiment with darkness. Phantom created the modern day blockbuster nature of Broadway shows such as Rent, Wicked and The Lion King, each of which took Phantom‘s groundbreaking path, meshing traditional musical elements with new ideas, to achieve glorious successes.
And its brilliance still resonates with me. Phantom smartly capitalized on the live element that drives all theater with the immediacy of the crashing chandelier, the passing of the boat to the Phantom‘s lair, the reverberation of the arias. It reminds me that theater exists to wow its audiences, to use the unique principle of liveness to make us feel, to bring its viewers to the edges of their seats. It’s the formula that has kept Phantom the best in the business, using basics that will never die.
After years of seeing musicals — many that were more complex and subtly remarkable than Phantom — it is still that classic, awe-inspiring show that has indefinitely set my bar for musical theater standards. It’s still that show that I’ll fondly remember, thinking of my fascination with the lavish costumes, the ornate set and the soprano notes all contained in that theatrical haven.
And it’s that show’s eerily beautiful music that I’ll sing to myself as I do my laundry, reminding me that, in an increasingly imperfect world of conflict and crisis, perfection still exists.
raghavendran@umdbk.com
